Something Evil This Way Comes
by Sirius7
Summary: B:tVS/West Wing crossover: What is Jean-Paul anyway? A response to two vastly different challenges. General spoiler warnings for WW. WIP
1. Part 1

Something Evil This Way Comes 

Author: Sirius (after the star, not the Harry Potter character)

Genre:  Supernatural/Humor/Romance

Pairings: Charlie/Zoey, Willow/Will

Rating: PG for now

Disclaimer: So far, none of the characters are  mine.  If I owned them, life would be a lot more interesting.

Author's Note:  This fanfic is a response to two vastly different challenges, and I honestly have no idea where it come from, but it won't leave me alone, so I had to write it.  For those of you who are familiar with/have read my "Tempered by Fire" Series (WIP – West Wing), I am still writing it, but this story had to get out.  Willow was never involved with Tara, but after the Initiative mess in the series, left Sunnydale and went to work for Angel in L.A.  She came back to help defeat Glory, and Buffy never died (therefore, Willow never had to bring her back).  She was never addicted to dark magic and is a very accomplished witch.  Now, what does this have to do with West Wing?  Well, you'll see.  Also, I've royally messed with the timelines in both series.

Part I: A Red-Headed Witch in Washington

Debbie looked up to see an unfamiliar young woman walk through the office.  She was about to greet her when the redhead put a finger to her lips and shook her head, then looked mischievously at Charlie.   The young man was concentrating so intently on his work that he hadn't noticed her.

Seeing that the guest wore a visitor's badge – and that the Secret Service agent near the door wasn't disturbed by her presence – Debbie relaxed and settled back to watch the scene unfolding before her.

The redhead walked softly up to Charlie's desk, removed a large book from her backpack, dropped it… and grinned as Charlie jumped out of his chair.  The agent – having guessed what she was going to do – didn't budge.

Charlie took a deep breath and gave her a quick hug.  "Geez, Will, give a guy a heart attack, why don't ya?"

"I try," was her quiet, teasing response.

"I wasn't expecting to see you in D.C., Willow.  What's up?"

"Not much… thought I'd drop off the wedding piccies and surprise my uncle."

"He lives in town?"

"Yep.  Works nearby, too.  How are things progressing with Operation Frog Prince?"  The mischievous grin was back, but Charlie was nowhere near as happy.

"_Stellar,_" he said, his tone at odds with his answer.

"Oh, definitely with the not good.  Want me to see what I can do?"

"Nothing…"

"Nope.  Nothing like that – promise."

"In that case, I'd appreciate the help, as long as it doesn't take you away from family."  Willow heard him mutter something that sounded like, "Damned French nobility, practically lives in a castle, probably has a moat, wish he'd drown in it…"  She had to struggle to suppress a grin.  He really wasn't dealing well with this.

"No, Charlie, my uncle won't mind.  I don't think _he_ likes him much, either."

"He knows Jean-Paul?"

"In a manner of speaking.  He's met him, he's spoken with him… he can't stand him.  To be one with the fairness, though, my uncle didn't actually say much about it.  He doesn't say much about most things."

"So he's like you in a quiet mood."

"Well, if I were Oscar the Grouch… yeah, kinda."

"And who is this illustrious uncle, exactly?"  Charlie was beginning to have a niggling suspicion in the back of his brain.  Who did he know who knew and disliked Jean-Paul?  Realizing that that list encompassed most, if not all, of the Senior Staff _and_ President Bartlet, he revised the list of characteristics and added "grouchy."  

Willow didn't answer his question, choosing instead to smile and stand calmly near his desk.  The doors to the Oval Office opened to reveal the Senior Staff, who exited the room in mid-discussion.  Charlie saw Willow silently counting off the seconds with her fingers – so she knew that Charlie noticed.  She had reached five before Toby Ziegler did an abrupt double-take and came to a complete halt – which, in retrospect, may not have been the best action, as it led to Will Bailey running into him from behind.  

Willow chuckled, and Toby realized that what he was seeing wasn't just a figment of his imagination.  "Willow?"

"Hi, Uncle Toby."

The rest of the Senior Staff stared in amazement as Toby _grinned_ before heading over to his niece and gathered her into such a strong hug as to lift her off the floor.  She just laughed and hugged him back.  

"What are you doing in D.C., Willow?"

"Playing messenger, relaxing a bit… taking a vacation, kinda."

"Messenger?"

"Yep.  I dropped off some pics for Charlie from Gunn and Fred."

"Whoa, wait… Gunn and Fred?"

"Charles Gunn," Charlie interjected.  "He's my cousin, works at a small investigation and security firm in L.A.  Fred – short for Winifred – is his wife.  They were married last month.  Remember the mess on my desk when I came back?"

"I do not make _messes_, Charlie."  The booming voice of President Jed Bartlet was easily recognizable to the staff, though Willow jumped a bit in surprise.  Bartlet stood in the doorway of the Oval Office, watching the scene with quiet amusement.  "I fix them."

Charlie watched, eyes twinkling, but said nothing… for now.  He could debate the "mess" issue with the President a little later.

Toby, making quick introductions, didn't notice the slightly startled look on the faces of the President and Will Bailey upon hearing the names "Willow Rosenberg" and "Sunnydale, California."  Debbie did, but wasn't quite certain what to make of it.  

As Toby ushered Willow toward his office – after she had made arrangements to meet Charlie later that evening – Will's eyes tracked the young witch.  Feeling the gaze, she glanced back, and when their eyes locked… he smiled.  

Willow had had something of a working lunch with her uncle – she had run down to the Mess and grabbed a few sandwiches, then sat and talked with him while they ate and he wrote.  She knew that rarely would she ever see Toby without some means of writing nearby, be it pen and paper or laptop computer.  It was just who he was.  At least he took her more seriously than her parents ever had.  

She'd come into his office and was initially surprised by the large space that looked as though it should have been a window… but had no glass.  Her curious glance at it had gotten more from her uncle than a grunt and what she could have sworn was a snicker.  Hmm… she'd have to ask someone else about it, and at the moment, Charlie was the most likely candidate.  He was the only other person here that she knew, after all, though certainly not the only person that she'd _like_ to know.  Her gaze flickered over to the "window" again, and a tiny smile teased the corner of her mouth.  

When she finally left her uncle's company that night, it was only to head to the desk that was three feet from the Oval Office, so that she could drag Charlie out of the building and shove some food down his throat while discussing what to do about a certain troublesome Frenchman.  

_Uh oh,_ she thought.  _I should have realized that if Charlie was working, it probably meant that the President was still here… my bad.  _Charlie was standing in the doorway of the Oval, but must have sensed movement behind him, as he turned his head to glance in her direction briefly.  

Willow mouthed, "Sorry" and started to back away, but Charlie shook his head and motioned her forward, still listening intently to the conversation taking place on the other side of the open doorway.  

The two challenges to which this is a response are as follows:  

The "How to Lose a Frenchman" West Wing Challenge:

I hereby issue the following challenge: Write a piece of fanfiction in which Jean-Paul is removed from the picture so that Charlie and Zoey can get back together. Rules:  
  
1) The story can be any length.  
  
2) It can be any genre, from silly to supernatural to serious.  
  
3) Jean-Paul DOES have to be in the story - AUs where he was never in the picture at all would deprive readers of the chance to see how you, as a writer, would get rid of the little menace.  
  
4) HAVE FUN.  
  
  


"The Bet" BtVS challenge:

Pairing can be: W/Xander, W/Spike, W/Nathaniel (AB), W/Will  
(West Wing), W/Harry (HP), W/Logan (X-Men), W/Remy (X-Men)  
Willow loses a bet and is forced to serve one week in servitude  
to one of the above mentioned men. What is she forced to do and what is the  
eventual outcome of that close time together?  
  



	2. Part II

Something Evil This Way Comes, Part II 

Author: Sirius

Pairing: Zoey/Charlie, Willow/Will 

Rating: PG

Author's Note: This picks up immediately after Part I.

Willow walked to Charlie's side, and, from that angle, was able to see into the room quite easily.  No sound escaped her, but Charlie looked down to see her eyes glowing a vibrant green.  

"Wills," he whispered, "calm down a bit, ok?"

She nodded, closed her eyes, took a deep breath… and nearly jumped in shock when Charlie rapped sharply on the open door, drawing the attention of the Oval's two occupants.

The younger one took a step toward her, eyes showing his shock at finding her here, of all places.  "Willow."

"Captain Finn."  Her voice was cold.  Here in front of her was a symbol of everything she'd hated about the Initiative, and its "torture first, ask questions later" research policy.  She turned her face from him, choosing to pay attention to the other man in the Oval Office.  "Good evening, Mr. President."

"Miss Rosenberg, Charlie, come in and have a seat.  It seems we need to talk."  Both of the younger individuals nodded, quickly and silently choosing seats.  Willow would have been shaking in fear at her location if she hadn't been focused on glaring at Riley.  

"Charlie," the President began, keeping a watchful eye – so to speak – on the mounting tension between the young woman and the Special Forces Captain.  He'd get to their story soon enough, but first…  "Charlie, how do you and Willow know each other?"

"We met at my cousin's wedding last month, Mr. President.  They work for the same private investigations firm in L.A."

"Part-time, anyway," Willow added.  "Gunn sticks with the investigating, but I do a fair amount of freelance computer programming, too."

"You work for Angel."  The shock on Riley's face was priceless.  "You moved to L.A. and went to work for a hostile?!"

Willow took a deep breath and turned the President.  "May I speak freely, sir?"

"Go right ahead.  Captain Finn certainly seems to think he can; you might as well join him."

"Riley, point one: seeing that you just mentioned Angel in front of the President, and, well… he is the President, I'm presuming that he knows about the Initiative, the Hellmouth, et cetera?"  Riley nodded, but Willow looked to Bartlet to confirm the response.

"With all due respect, sir," and this, she said to the President, "his commanding officer had a few run-ins with delusions of godhood, and I have to wonder how much you actually read that happened to be the truth.  Walsh certainly wouldn't have told you about Adam."

"No," Bartlet responded, "but the Captain did.  I put him in the Initiative to keep an eye on Walsh, Miss Rosenberg.  I didn't trust her, but no one had any proof."

"Unfortunately, he seems to have picked up a few of her attitudes while he was there."

"I am still in the room, Willow," Riley interjected.

"You're also still thinking of Angel as a _hostile_, Riley.  He has a soul.  He's a Chosen Warrior of the Powers That Be.  Between his cause and a rather major case of Irish Catholic guilt… hey, he doesn't make with the big, bad evil.  Get used to it."

Riley was stunned into silence.  This was the shy, researchy Willow?

Seeing the look on his face, Willow laughed a little.  It was not an unkind laugh… more, gently amused.  "Riley, I may have been all Research Girl in high school, but I'd still been… you know, fighting evil and all that since I was fifteen.  My first boyfriend was a werewolf.  You may remember Oz; you helped catch him and the Initiative wanted to dissect him.  Nice guy, just slightly grumpy for three days of every month, but then… I'm no fun to be around three days out of the month, either, so… not all to the bad.  And then, of course, if you remember that I survived high school, you know there's gotta be some kick-ass stuff in there somewhere.  Pardon the language, Mr. President."

"Oh, go right ahead.  I'm enjoying this little conversation we seem to be having.  And the significance to surviving high school would be…"

"Well, sir, I grew up on the Hellmouth.  People don't tend to… well… live there, very easily, due to several long-standing hazards… things like praying mantis demon-things – one of which ate a science teacher and tried to get together with all the male virgins in her class – she was a substitute teacher.  Then, there's the vampires of course – killed the computer science teacher, among others.  She was a friend, though.  Then… oh, the biggie… the mayor who turned into an evil demon thing and _ate_ the principal – on Graduation Day – and then pretty much made with decimating much of the audience and half the Senior Class.  I've been actively fighting these things, one way or another, since Buffy – the Slayer?"  Bartlet nodded to show that Riley's reports had filled him in on that much.  "Since Buffy came to Sunnydale and kept me from being a walking Happy Meal.  More to me than meets the eye.  'Course, given what the Initiative was trying to do – and the dubious sanity of Dr. Walsh – you might understand why I wasn't too fond of them.  I'm actually being _nice_ to Riley."

"You call this nice?"

"Riley, I'm a witch, remember?  I don't hurt people, but the humiliation… another thing entirely.  Besides, I haven't actually done anything to you, and I won't.  Thus, the nice.  However, even if you were reporting on the Initiative for President Bartlet, you still aided in the capture of innocent individuals, and could be considered an accomplice to several counts of aggravated assault and … what exact heading does torture come under, anyway?  Of course, that's presuming that demons could press charges in a human court, which would be pretty… well, futile."  

The identical looks of shock from the three men made her chuckle.  "What?  I'm not allowed to watch `Matlock' every once in a while?"

TBC…


	3. Part III

Something Evil This Way Comes, Part III 

Author: Sirius

Rating: PG

Pairings: Willow/Will (getting there, I promise), and Charlie/Zoey (as soon as I get rid of the annoying French guy).

Disclaimer: For disclaimers, see Part I.

Author's Note: I know this is short, but at the moment, this seemed like a good place to end this portion of the story.  Also, I realize that I haven't gotten to the "Bet" or "How to Lose a Frenchman" portions of the story, yet.  They're on their way, but I have to finish the set-up.  Besides, I think this is funny (although I'm not certain if everyone shares my opinion on that).  Anyway, on with the story…

From Part II:   The identical looks of shock from the three men made her chuckle.  "What?  I'm not allowed to watch `Matlock' every once in a while?"

Part III

Both Bartlet and Charlie noted the slight decrease in tension after Willow's comment, but Charlie recognized and followed the silent directive given by his President.  He quietly – and with subtle movements – maneuvered himself to stand between Willow and Riley.

And then, the Captain had to start in again…

"It was research, Willow.  They were dangerous…"

"Some of them, yes, but most of them… The Tyreshi are vegetarians, Riley.  They don't do human.  The Initiative had at least twelve of them on `Research Row.'  They're grumpy, but harmless.  They were tortured, Riley.  I saw the video; we all did.  I know exactly what was done to them.  You wouldn't even have subjected _Hitler_ to that – but then, the argument could be made that he was human – superficially, at least.  You don't have to be a demon to be evil, Riley, and you don't have to be human to be nice.   If genetics completely governed disposition, there wouldn't be a demon running a karaoke bar in L.A., and Wolfram and Hart wouldn't work for evil incarnate… but that's another thing altogether."

Riley looked about ready to start in with a rebuttal, but abruptly closed his mouth when President Bartlet glared at him.  

"Well, now that all the repressed anger's been let out of the bag – one may hope – might we get back to the original topic of discussion?  Charlie, your cousin?"

"Yes, sir.  Charles Andrew Gunn – both our mothers thought very highly of our grandfather, sir – lives in Los Angeles, works for Angel Investigations and recently married the love of his life, an astonishingly brilliant physicist.  Gunn and I are roughly the same age, and his parents died in a car crash not too long before Mom, leaving him to take care of Elana like I looked after Deena.  We wanted to get together, but neither of us really had enough to relocate to the other side of the country, so we each stayed where we were, kept in touch and hoped for the best.  He never told me the details, but I know that Elana was… Changed… and Gunn was forced to stake her.  He's never really gotten over that, any more than I would have been able to get over having to kill something that used to be Deena.  But even Gunn, who'd had to go through that personal Hell, could see that Angel isn't your typical vampire.  With all due respect, Captain Finn," and with this, Charlie turned to look at Riley, "you'd learn a lot more if you actually listened to those who had walked the path before you.  Gunn has, Willow has, Angel has, but since you're so convinced that Angel is evil, you refuse to see anything that might contradict that belief.  I'd be careful of that tendency, if I were you.  It's a dangerous one."

Bartlet – who inwardly sided with his aide – said nothing to Riley save that he was dismissed.  Riley nodded and went to leave the room, but paused at the doorway.  "Sir," he said, "I have one more question, if I may?"

The President nodded.

"This one's been bothering me since I saw Willow tonight.  Willow… what are you doing here?"

The young Wiccan chuckled softly, amused by the look of shear amazement on Riley's face.  "I came to visit my uncle, Riley – you might know him – Toby Ziegler, White House Communications Director?"

"Well," Riley said after a moment, shock blatantly visible on his face, "that explains a lot.  And now I have even more reason to be grateful that Professor Walsh didn't get the chance to finish her pet project."  He shook his head and the President dismissed him for the second time that night.  As he walked toward the outer office door, he doubtless didn't realize that his words were perfectly audible to the three still standing in the Oval.  "I'm getting too old for this.  Presidential aide related to an investigator and demon slayer who works for a demon with a soul – doesn't make sense.  And a witch with a member of White House Senior Staff for an uncle.  What's next?  Finding out that the new Deputy Communications Director is secretly a Druid?"

TBC…


	4. Part IV

Something Evil This Way Comes, Part IV 

Author: Sirius

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: See Part I

Pairings: Willow/Will, Charlie/Zoey

Chapter Summary: Enter Jean-Paul.

From Part III:   "What's next?  Finding out that the new Deputy Communications Director is secretly a Druid?"

Part IV:

Charlie was snickering softly as Riley's last few words drifted to them, and the President draped a fatherly arm around Willow's shoulders and motioned her back to her former seat on the couch.  Willow, while appreciating the gesture, was somewhat confused.  

"So, Willow, tell me," Bartlet started to say, and Willow could almost see Charlie face pale a shade at a time.  The look in his eyes was definitely not good.

"Why exactly are you taking such as interest in my young assistant, here, and what kind of plotting is going on here?   I know the two of you are planning something, so tell."  Willow suddenly felt as if she was in the middle of a large, bare room with a bright light shining in her face.  `Whoa, flashback to old police movies much, Wills?'

"Sir, how do you…"

"Willow, Willow, didn't Charlie tell you?  I'm the President; I know everything."

The giggle escaped before she could stop it.  She tried, really she did.  Charlie had been right about one thing.  This man was the Real Thing.  Willow glanced at Charlie and he nodded.  "He doesn't like him any more than I do, Wills."

"OK, I was going to drag him somewhere, shove some food down his throat – possibly of the pizza variety – and we were going to discuss OFP."

"OFP?  I'm not familiar with that acronym.  OFM is an order of Franciscan friars, but I'm fairly certain I like them."

Willow tried to stop it, but once again the giggle escaped.  Charlie just smirked.  "I thought you knew everything, sir?"

"Shut up, Charlie, before I have Ron come in here and kick your ass."

"Yes, sir," Charlie replied – with a perfect poker face.

"Smart ass."

"Yes, Mr. President."

Bartlet turned again to Willow.  "Ignoring Mr. Young over there for a moment, OFP would be…"

"Operation Frog Prince, Mr. President."

"Ah, then it has something to do with that poncy Frenchman my daughter's dating."

"Yes, sir."

Bartlet leaned forward in his chair, rubbing his hands together.  For a moment, he looked all of – maybe – five, as his eyes brightened and his face was split by a grin.  "Good."

"Charlie wasn't kidding when he said you didn't like him, was he?"

"No, Willow, he was not.  I was… speaking… with him here one day.  The Senior Staff came in and Josh said they would leave if I wanted more time to… bond… with Jean-Paul.  I told Josh that if he left I'd kill him.  I'm not completely sure that I was joking.  Zoey's never done anything bad enough to deserve `him.'  Let me in… what have you got?"  

Willow sat in stunned silence for a moment as she watched the President approach the issue with the same sense of… something… determination, maybe… that she imagined would be present during any kind of national crisis.  `Does he approach everything with this level of intensity?  How does he not burn himself out?  I mean, I do the bubbly, lively Willowy thing a lot but not necessarily with the intense, never-shuts-off focus thingy going on… and I'm thinking in a ramble.  Brain, shut up.'

"Willow?"

"Sorry, Mr. President.  I was distracted for a second.  We actually don't have anything right now.  I haven't been here long enough, and I sorta want to meet Jean-Paul first so I can get my own idea of what he's like… not that I don't trust your opinions, but… ARGHH.  Must stop eating the foot."

Bartlet laughed… truly laughed.. and then set about reassuring her.  "It's alright, Willow.  I know what you meant.  And I'll try to…"

There was a knock on the door, as one of the ever-vigilant Service agents (who saw everything but… if asked… knew nothing) alerted them to the fact that someone was approaching the office.  Actually, as it turned out, it was three someones… Zoey and Jean-Paul, being trailed by Will.

Willow focused first on the young speech-writer, noting the curious look on his face, and the folder in his hand… held loosely, as if forgotten.  Her eyes then switched to the man she presumed to be Jean-Paul.  She found herself the focus of an intense glare, and saw something in his eyes that made her shiver.  She didn't even hear the conversation between the President and his daughter, and didn't actually absorb any of it until the young couple turned to leave the room.  Willow realized that the President had agreed to head up to the Residence in a few minutes.  

The door had barely closed behind the two when Will's eyes met Willow's and they said, in unison, "He's not normal."

TBC…


	5. Part V

Something Evil This Way Comes, Part V 

Author: Sirius

Email: wildwolf514@yahoo.com

Rating and Disclaimer: See part I

Author's Note:  This bit is shorter than normal, but it felt like the right spot to end this section.

From Part IV:  The door had barely closed behind the two when Will's eyes met Willow's and they said, in unison, "He's not normal."

Part V:

Charlie's voice was the first to break the silence.  "And when you say 'not normal' we're talking… what… exactly?  He can't be a vampire because sunlight doesn't make him burst into flame… unfortunately.  So what is he and is he a threat to Zoey?"

Willow's eyes got a little wider when she realized that everyone was looking at her.  "What?" she said.

"You're a witch."

"Yes, and you're Irish, Will.  If I knew exactly what he was just by looking at him, I'd be more willing to believe that the Irish as a whole really do have a direct line to God – not that they don't, necessarily, but… you know… research is a good.  I have a few ideas, but it's not like I can identify him by smell or anything."

Bartlet, though worried about his daughter, watched the conversation with silent amusement.  "Ms. Rosenberg," he said, speaking to the entire group, though his comments were directed to Willow, "you mentioned taking Charlie elsewhere and getting him to ingest something of the food variety.  Presuming that Will doesn't need to talk to me about anything in particular right now, take him with you.  Charlie will update me on the situation in the morning.  Just get that person away from my daughter.  Will?"

"Huh?  Uh, yes, sir."

"Is that folder for me… the one you seemed to have forgotten holding, possibly due to your focus on our lovely young witch, here?"

"Oh… no, sir.  This is just something I was going to work on at home."  Bartlet noticed that he never denied his preoccupation with Willow, but avoided saying anything more.

"Go home… or to Charlie's… or something.  I expect the three of you to figure out what he is and if he's dangerous."

Even if the three had been able to think past the momentary shock, there was no acceptable response other than, "Yes, sir" and "Thank you, Mr. President," and they all knew it.  So saying, they left the Oval Office, and prepared to leave the building.  

She watched from an upstairs window as the three of them left, her expression completely at odds with her thoughts.  _Charlie, help me._  This had all started so innocently… her disagreement with Charlie before going to France.  She thought he worked too much and she wanted to get away from everything related to politics… just for a little while.  Politics had almost gotten Charlie shot.  Politics had gotten _her father_ shot and had almost killed Josh.  _No, not politics… that was the fault of ignorance.  God, Charlie, I wanted to say no when he asked me to dance.  I wanted to say no.  He was the opposite of everything here, but he was _wrong.  _I wanted to say no, but what came out was 'yes.'  _

Even now, she couldn't remember exactly how it had started, only knowing that there had been a look in his eyes that had made it impossible for her to turn away from him.  She heard him enter the room, and against her will, she turned to look.  Even though she hated him, Zoey could not stop the smile that spread across her face.  _Charlie… help me._

TBC…


End file.
